


All Too Well

by fandomslut1998



Category: miscellaneous - Fandom
Genre: Agape, Angst, Anxiety, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Blood, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Depression, Discovery, Eros - Freeform, F/M, Fear, Ghosts of the Past - Freeform, I actually wrote this for school in like 10th grade, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Neruda, Oops, Paranoia, Self-Discovery, Self-Harm, Shakespeare, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, This is also on wattpad, demons of the mind, her fault, his fault, kind of very loosely, mental issues, severe mental health issues, so it sucks, swedish proverb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4596906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomslut1998/pseuds/fandomslut1998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She left him, and now he sees her everywhere, accompanying his demons.</p><p>  The memories are harsh and cold, and he is slipping away from reality.</p><p>  His blood keeps him tethered to Earth for now, but he knows that he will join the ghosts when he has finished one last task - saying goodbye. </p><p>  "I remember it all too well..."</p><p> </p><p>              YOU get to choose who the main characters are! No names are mentioned. Although I imagined the characters as Niall Horan and myself (not that I would ever do that to him), it is entirely up to the reader - how YOU interpret it! Have fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Too Well

**Author's Note:**

> title from All Too Well by Taylor Swift
> 
>  
> 
> {sad, beautiful, tragic}

 

He was dead inside. Completely and utterly dead. He couldn't feel anything, and he could feel too much. He couldn't see how everyone else around had begun to look at him, but he could see it all too well. He couldn't see what a mess his life had become, and he could see exactly how he - how she - had ruined it. But the one thing he could see clearly was that it was all his fault, everything, and yet it wasn't his fault at all - it was all out of his hands now, because he had handed everything over to a power other than himself.

He no longer controlled his life. Fear did.

* * *

No one believed him. Why didn't they believe him?

The stares of the girls as he walked past them were no longer welcoming, filled with glee at meeting their idol. The joy had been replaced by menace; he saw manevolent maliciousness over thinly veiled anger.

No one else saw. Only he did, and he let himself get a little more crazy every time he saw it. There were ghosts. Memories and demons. Nightmares. They lurked around the corners in the dank alleys in his mind and the streets he walked, leering as he turned his impassive visage from them. They knew he would cave to their own selfish hunger for him. Eventually. But no, not today. Today, he will continue to turn his face away, keeping it carefully blank. Today, his will not resist, nor will he give in.

His thoughts danced through the gloomy rain as they smiled. And still he would not yield. No, not yet. Not today. He couldn't - it wasn't time. The demons and ghosts and memories and nightmares, they smiled. And sometimes, he even smiled back.

* * *

A beautiful day, a beautiful boy. A dismal play, in which he is a toy.

He can no longer save himself. Will you save him? Or would you, if it were still possible? Many things are possible, but that is no longer one of them.

* * *

He walks past the teenagers and smiles an empty smile. A pathetic attempt at pretending he was happy; a pathetic attempt to hide. From his fears, from his sadness, from all his inhibitions. Hiding from himself. He doesn't want anyone to see; he can'tlet anyone else know about the stories behind the haunted look in his eyes. They can't, because if they get close enough to see, they will be too close, and then they could get hurt. He doesn't want that. The only one who can get hurt is him.

* * *

"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it."

He thinks that he wishes someone would love him again. Maybe that would help pull him back down to Earth; a gravitational attraction, a woman who is the epitamy of "behind your eyes, your beauty lies," a lover of the best kind. And he thinks that maybe ha had something like that. A crazy love, a bright, burning love. A love that, in the end, was only treacherous, sad, beautiful and tragic. There were moments of newfound hope, extreme joy, intense passion, wishful thinking, and in the end, that inevitable, unthinkable letdown. Because in the end, she only let him down. He gave her his everything, and she kept on taking without giving back until she left. She left.

Oh yeah. That's why he didn't want to remember.

A red love that turned dark grey.

A love that he never really needed until now, even though that love is why he is in this dark, flaming Tartarus.

He didn't remember.

And now, he remembers all too well.

* * *

They're back. They sit just beyond his bloodied reach as his life force flows out onto the bathroom floor. He sits as well, looking back at them as the steady stream slows to a trickling brook. A bubbling, frothy red brook.

"Are you coming yet?" they ask.

"No. No, not yet. I can't. I haven't done it, haven't said it yet. You know that - I just need some time." They grinned a little wider as he looked away again. A new scene.

* * *

"Love is so short, forgetting is so long."

He thinks that maybe Neruda knew what he was talking about. He thinks that maybe, now that the time for loving was over, the time for forgetting should be over too.

* * *

Is it sad that he doesn't even know what he's afraid of anymore? The demons, the memories, the ghosts, the nightmares, the blood, the hopeless daydreams. Himself. Maybe none, maybe all.

* * *

The song played in his headphones as he found his mother and gave her a hug. Stepping back, he searched the crowded party briefly. He knew she would be there. Giving her a mock salute, he smirked a little to himself before going inside to start the last act of his play.

* * *

Thank you to the girl who took the demons away, and brought them back to life. Thank you to the girl who inspired a new beginning, then forced an ending.

Thank you to the girl who left an innicent, beautifully sad soul alone with his fears.

Now that the fears have won, the rewind button is stuck in place. He couldn't feel anything, and he could feel too much.

* * *

As he faded, the last lines played as the screen in the room beside him showed his credits. A play. A game. A life.

* * *

"I remember it all too well."

**Author's Note:**

> if you are struggling with depression, anxiety, or anything like that... head to my bio and find my social media info. i will reply to any messages asap! 
> 
> even if i don't know what to say, i promise you that i will always listen.
> 
> comment, leave kudos, all that fun stuff


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